Passing the Torch
by ScribbleWorld
Summary: Fred and George Weasley are in their fifth year at Hogwarts, and have decided it is time to pass on a certain trouble-inducing map. Unknown to them, a Marauder/DADA Professor is listening in... George POV, Oneshot


Disclaimer: To my great dismay, Harry Potter is not for sale on eBay…

The Changing of the Guard

"It's time." Fred said to me, a mixture of grave and excited. We were sitting side by side in Defense Against the Dark Arts class in our fifth year. I knew his meaning at once. It was only this morning that we had learned that Harry couldn't go to Hogsmeade; on account of his thoroughly stupid relatives. I nodded solemnly.

"Yes. When should we pass it on?"

"Soon. The first trip to Hogsmeade is in just a few days. Harry has to be able to go, legally or not."

"-right, Mr. Weasley?" I looked up, smiling impishly.

"Which Weasley would that be, Professor Lupin?"

"George, please." I turned towards my brother, planning to take advantage of the fact that we were almost completely identical. On a similar note, our only difference was that he had a birthmark on his butt, but (except for our mum, once or twice) nobody had ever asked for confirmation on who was who that way.

"So. George. What is it?" Lupin sighed, though his eyes sparkled.

"I know perfectly well that you are George Weasley, Mr. Weasley," he said with a small, tired smile. I started. No one could tell us apart after knowing us just a month or two!

I answered. "The Himalayan Snarglepuff, sir?" He grinned for real this time, filling up half of his face. I had only really seen him smile like that once or twice. He had been rather sickly-looking for most of the year. He seemed to be worsening on and off. Now was one of his worst sick-bouts.

"Why, thank you, George. Excellent answer!" My eye twitched, and my mouth pulled itself into a grin. Lupin was easily my favorite professor this year perhaps ever. But I pulled myself out of my disgraceful teacher-appreciating thoughts, and continued my previous train of thought.

When we had acquired it in first year, we – Fred and I – had made a pact to discover the true identities of Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs, and we had no doubt we would succeed.

We spent months upon months looking through old Hogwarts archives, making us very suspicious in the eyes of the staff – and yet still found nothing. We had searched everything from people with pet rodents or snakes ("Wormtail") to people with the last names of Moon or Prongs. We had had a day of excitement when we found Melissa Moon, who had been at Hogwarts in 1927; but it was soon squashed. She had turned out to be an infamous Slytherin bully expelled in her fourth year.

We had spent long hours deciding who to give it to. We contemplated giving it to Ron, who was the most likely of our brothers in Hogwarts to get into trouble – but decided against it. We couldn't be going soft. Lee Jordan? No; that wouldn't really be giving it away to the next generation – it had to be someone younger. Finally, they had hit upon the ideal option. Harry.

Harry Potter was a troublemaker-in-the-making, even if he didn't know it. Fred and I didn't realize it at first… that is until he was caught sneaking an illegal baby dragon to ship off to Charlie, and became the youngest seeker in a century! Unlike the rest of our house, who were irritated at his behavior in the dragon incident, we were excited. Finally, someone had the potential to be the next generation! Someone could carry on the torch! It was unspoken, even then, that we would give him the map eventually. But then he was too young. Naïve.

In his second year, he was thought to be the Heir of Slytherin, something that never really made sense to me. The sorting hat would not have put a descendant of Slytherin in his arch-rival's house! It just didn't add up! Though we were slightly disappointed that he didn't take the full advantage of the opportunity to prank and not be told on – even if it was out of fear that he would set his little beastie on the tattletale. I almost cried at the lost opportunity. But the important part is that he was brave, saved our sister, _and _found the Chamber of Secrets. I was sure not even the Holy Ones (Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs) had done that!

It wasn't until yesterday that we knew it was time. The poor boy was deprived of Hogsmeade, of all things! And what decent third year can't go to Hogsmeade?

"Is tomorrow good? I kind of want to do a last hurrah sort of thing. You know, use it to go to Honeydukes one last time." The professor seemed to twitch for a second, and for a millisecond, my heart stopped… but it soon restarted. We were in the last row of the room, for goodness sake. Humans can't hear a whispered sentence from over thirty feet away! Even the Ravenclaw girl sitting at the table to our right gave no sign of hearing us.

"That sounds good," Fred answered. "I'll miss not having the Map to tell us when teachers are coming." He sighed forlornly. "But we'll need to give it to him eventually, and the most important part of the map is the secret passages. We can always use a _Homenum Revealis_ spell to do generally the same thing." The professor turned around, assigning homework with a strange expression on his face. It was a mix of shock, good humor, sadness, and questioning. I could've swore his eyes lingered on us for a second before writing something on the board, but I dismissed the thought immediately.

"What really bothers me," I said in a slightly quieter tone, "Is that giving Harry the map inadvertently means that we're giving up our quest to find the noble Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs." Lupin coughed up front. He had been doing this a lot lately – he was sick, after all - but this one sounded different, as if he was covering up a laugh or a sneeze. My twin smiled sadly, but resignedly.

"Yeah… but honestly, we've made zero progress in finding them since we nicked from Filch in first year. As much as I hate to say it, I don't think we'll be able to find them." I wanted to reject his hesitant words, but I was sorry to admit that he was probably right.

"Yeah. I guess we'll never know…" I trailed off, and we spent the last ten minutes of class in a sad silence. Finally, we finished Defense. It was our last class of the day, and we were about to head up to the dormitory when the professor called to us.

"Mr. Weasley and Mr. Weasley? Could you stay behind for a moment of your time?" I was confused. We had been (relatively) good this class. We hadn't done any major pranks, only enchanting a spitball or two (okay, so it was ten) to fly around Barnaby Higgin's head. And that was the sort of thing the teachers actually expected of us. They would've found it stranger if we didn't do anything during class, than if we blew it up.

The professor looked uncomfortable, or nervous. "Chocolate?" he offered, pulling out a bar from under his desk and breaking us each a large piece. He conjured chairs in front of his desk, and bit his lower lip. By now, Fred and I were thoroughly baffled. Weren't we supposed to be the ones who were nervous, not the teacher?

"During class today, I couldn't help but notice that you two were talking about a certain… erm… _group_ that was in Hogwarts a few years ago." I blanched, not having to look at my twin to know he was doing the same. I couldn't believe it. After years. Years! Of having the map, we were going to have it re-confiscated on the second to last day we were the owners of it.

Lupin saw our faces, and chuckled dryly, saying, "No, no, don't worry. I won't tell." I was slightly relieved. If any other teacher said that to me, I would've been even more suspicious, but this was Lupin. He seemed the decent type. Plus, how did he hear us? Did he have those little mikrofone things dad was always going on about? He coughed again, and took another bite of chocolate.

"Anyways, the Marauder's map. From your conversation, I dare say you two've figured it out?" I was beyond comprehension. How could this be happening!?! And why was he talking as if he already knew what it was before today?! Unless… no. That wasn't even worth contemplating. A Marauder as a _teacher_! Yeah, right!

"I must say, when Filch got a hold of it in my seventh year, I didn't really expect to hear from it again. If it wasn't the end of the year, I'm sure Prongs, Wormtail, Pad-" he stumbled in his words. "I mean, Prongs, Wormtail and I would've figured out some sort of rescue plan." His chin was placed carefully on his folded hands, his elbows securely on his desk.

This. Is. Un. Freakin'. Believable. I couldn't believe our luck! The teacher that happened to overhear us talking about the map turned out to be a Marauder himself!

"So you're Moony?" Fred asked excitedly, beaming. I sighed. Despite our identical looks and hobbies, Fred had always been more excitable than I. But still, I couldn't exactly blame him in this case, I mean-

"You're a Marauder?! Are the rest of them teaching here, too? Who were the Prongs, Padfoot and Moony? How did you hear us? Why-"

I would've continued with an onslaught of questions Fred and I had contemplated a million times, if he hadn't laughed delightedly, though sadly. Why sadly? I thought.

"Well, to answer your questions, yes, I am a Marauder. Moony. No, I am the only one teaching here. Wormtail was Peter Pettigrew-" This name rang a serious bell in my head, but I couldn't place the name on a specific face or reputation. "Prongs was…" his speech slowed slightly, "J-James Potter;"

My mouth hung open. Harry's dad?! But he was-. Dead. That explained the sadness. Were any of the others casualties of the war? Even though I didn't know him personally, my heart twinged painfully. One of my dreams of meeting all the Marauders went flying through a mental window. "and I, obviously, was Moony."

We sat in silence, digesting this information. He looked hopeful, and nervous, as if expecting rejection – or hoping to avoid something. Maybe both.

"What about Padfoot, sir?" Fred asked slowly. I sensed this was a touchy subject on Lupin's – _Moony's_, I corrected myself – part. The already unhealthy-looking professor seemed to get sicker and older. His shoulders slumped.

"P-Padfoot? Oh!" He pretended to have forgotten. "Padfoot is-_was _Sirius Black." My heart stopped. Sirius Black?! But he was the one who killed Peter Pettigrew (I finally remembered why his name seemed familiar) and sold the Potters to Vol-

I didn't let my thoughts continue. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs. The names had a whole different meaning now. Less of a vibrant source of hope or hero-worship, and more of a sad ring.

There was another silence. This one, however, was sad, not uncomfortable. Fred tried to break the ice with another – hopefully less painful – question.

"So… how did you get your nicknames?" This was another thing we had spent ages contemplating. The names sounded like animal characteristics, not human. I mean, _Wormtail_? _Padfoot_? Humans didn't have padded feet, or tails! Except for that time with Slytherin in fourth year… but I didn't let myself go off into memories of pranks.

The Marauder looked less sad, and more worried and uncomfortable. "Uhhh… just things we thought of pretty randomly," he answered. "Some were based of characteristics; like I… love…" he winced "the moon, and James was always strutting around, though after fifth year it was more of a joke or habit to do so…" It didn't explain much, and I had the feeling he was keeping something vital from us. But I had the good sense not to pry.

He smiled forcedly. "I guess I just thought I'd pass the knowledge onto you two;" he said. "I wouldn't want us to be forgotten, anyhow. James and Sirius" his voice broke slightly over the names, "would've never forgiven me if I let us fade into history." He smiled reminiscently, though he still looked pained. He coughed violently, and when he drew his hand away from his mouth, I was sure I saw a bit of blood on it.

"Are you okay, Professor Moony?" He laughed hoarsely, though it obviously pained him.

"Oh, how they would have teased me if they heard that…" he said so quietly that we assumed (correctly) that he was speaking to himself. "I'm fine." He finished. "Now go along. If you have a question, or something, I'd be happy to answer a few, but I'm going to have a sick day tomorrow, so come sometime next week, okay?"

We nodded, and walked out of the room, saying our goodbyes semi-consciously. The map had a whole new meaning for us now, or at least me. For once, I didn't know what to say. They were no longer nameless sources of reverence. They were a Death Eater and a murderer, two people murdered by him, and a broken enigma left behind.

"Let's give it to Harry tonight." Fred said quietly. I nodded. It was time to pass the torch to someone who deserved it by birthright. The son of a Marauder. The one who had suffered the most from the deception.

George closed his eyes. He couldn't even bring himself to congratulate himself on finding them. It was less of a reward, than a curse. He looked at Fred, who was looking down at his feet. He narrowed his eyes, and made a pact to himself.

I, George Arthur Weasley, will never let the curse of the Marauders touch us. I will keep my family safe.

Two Years Later:

Sirius Black was innocent. Padfoot, the Marauder that (before I learned of his false crimes) I connected with the most, if you can connect with notes that appear on the front of an old piece of parchment. Contrary to almost all of the Order of the Phoenix, he was not very surprised.

It made all the sense in the world to him. How could someone be best friends with a person for almost a decade, then kill them and feel nothing, especially if that person was a Marauder and a prankster of all people? Even in the dark days of the second war, things seemed to be looking up.

Moony (or Lupin, though the Fred and I refused to call him that) was smiling again. A real, honest-to-god smile. Not a pained, insincere one. When he smiled, he seemed to loose ten years of age. Everything made so much more sense, now that I know the truth.

The wolf, the dog, the stag and the rat. Even the Marauder's Animagus forms (the true reasons for their names had been explained last year) hinted at the truth. Moony; the wolf. The reason for it all, the leader – and yet the follower. The dog; Padfoot. Playful and kind, but fiercely protective. The stag; Prongs. The leader. A beacon of hope and purity, of love for Lily Potter, one of the many people he was willing to die for, and the person for which he actually did. The rat; Wormtail. A follower. Deceiving. Weak, but poisonous. Able to take down even the best by using trickery and false truths.

When it was spread out like that, I can't help but wonder if someone would've guessed the truth; had they known the secret of the Animagus. I turned my face up into the sprinkling rain, feeling it splatter soothingly onto his face, though a spell kept it away from his eyes. All was well.

AN: This was just an idea floating around in my head. Hope you liked it! George, Fred and Lupin are some of my favorite characters in the HP series. A note on Sirius's innocence: Harry, Ron and Hermione learned he was innocent later that year, but everybody else didn't know until Harry's fifth year. And the "two years later" notes are before Sirius's death.


End file.
